My paternal grandfather used to call me Donna Donut . A childhood nic name that became more than prophetic . While in B.C , The Sisters took us to a local Farmer's Market where I found( or smelled) a booth reminiscent of my youth. It reminded me not only of my Grandfather but of the homemade donuts my Mom use to make for us on special occasions . Mom had a well worn pot she kept for deep frying and a strange little metal gadget that my Father had ordered for her from a magazine . My brothers , sister and I could smell the dough bubbling away in that old pot and it would draw us to the kitchen and to Mom . There were no donut shops then . As kids , we felt very special that our family could enjoy this donut delicacy in our own home , thanks to our parents , an old pot of oil , and that little metal dough plunger .
That same smell drew me to the little booth where golden , hot sugared, donut rings, made the old fashioned way , lured me to buy and to taste a piece of my past just like Mom use to make .
Like a song remembered , food can recall a long forgotten but oh so fond memory .
3 comments:
Mmmmmmm.... donuts. My great-grandmother was the family doughnut maker. Man, they were good.
My Mom also had an old Dutch over with one handle missing that was her deep fryer. She didn't do donuts, but occasionally French fries or egg rolls.
Mom would scream every time she dropped something into the boiling oil, because it really was a traumatic experience. When she was 6, she and her friend were making French fries ("chips" as we always knew them as) and burned down her friend's house (I don't know where friend's mother was), so the friend's family ended up living with my Mom's family for a time, in one of those tiny little Hollinger houses on Borden Avenue in Timmins.
That should be "Dutch oven", of course.
I think our deep fryer was an old Dutch oven too .. it saw chips , donuts , egg rolls ,fish , and whatever else Mom needed hot oil for ..we never looked at is as artery clogging then . No house burnings .
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